Rue can't move from her spot on the ground.

The cemetery is quiet, the last stragglers from the funeral having dispersed hours ago, but she's still here, rooted to the spot where they lowered Nate into the earth. The cold from the ground seeps into her legs, making her shiver, but she doesn't care. She's beyond physical sensation, numb from the inside out, her mind spinning with memories that flash in and out like flickers of light in the dark.

She tries to breathe, to keep herself steady, but each breath is shallow, her chest constricting as if there's a vice around her ribs. The grave is fresh, raw earth heaped over a coffin that now holds the only person who ever made her feel alive, even in the mess of it all. Her hands rest on the ground, fingers clawing into the damp soil, as if she can dig through it, find him, pull him back to her. She knows it's impossible. Knows he's gone.

But the memories won't let her go.

Rue's bedroom. Nate above her, his breath hot against her neck, his fingers deftly exploring the most sensitive parts of her.

It was the way they knew each other's bodies so intimately, like they were built for this—built to consume each other, to lose themselves in the spaces only they could fill. He'd known her better than she knew herself, the way he could drive her to the edge, make her arch and tremble and bite her lip to keep from crying out too loudly. They'd been reckless, careless, but in those moments, nothing else mattered. Not the chaos, not the secrets, not the violence.

She remembers the way he looked at her afterward, that slight, vulnerable smile he never gave anyone else. A look he reserved for her, the only softness he allowed himself to feel. He would stand beside her bed, tousled and breathless, eyes tracing the lines of her face, his hand brushing hair from her forehead. It was the only time she ever saw him as something tender, something fragile beneath all the armor.

In those moments, they weren't broken people trying to claw their way out of hell. They were just… two kids, hiding from a world that kept breaking them.

The reality of it hits her like a punch to the gut. She'll never feel his arms around her again, never hear him murmur some sarcastic comment in her ear, never have those fleeting mornings tangled in her sheets, the sunlight streaming in like a blessing on something that was so forbidden, so fraught, and yet so painfully, undeniably real.

She clutches her stomach, and a fresh wave of grief crashes over her. It's too early to show, but she feels it now, like a secret she's forced to carry alone. His child. Their child. A piece of him left behind, something she never asked for but can't bear to lose. She doesn't know how to make sense of it, this life growing inside her while he's buried beneath layers of earth, lost to her forever. It feels cruel, like the universe is playing some twisted joke, giving her a reminder of him when she'd rather just disappear.

She remembers him, after everything with Cal. The darkness in his eyes that wouldn't fade, even as he lay beside her.

"When does your mom get back?" she'd asked, sensing the tension in him, the way he seemed to sink into the mattress as if he could disappear into it. He'd been quiet, more so than usual, his thoughts somewhere far away.

"Shouldn't be too long now," he'd replied, almost absently. He'd reached out, tracing the line of her spine with his fingers, his touch gentle in a way that made her heart ache. She'd wanted to comfort him, to reassure him, but she didn't know how. She knew something had changed, that whatever he'd done, it had carved a scar into him that wouldn't heal.

He'd told her then, almost like an afterthought, that he thought he might go away for a long time. She'd felt the ground slipping from beneath her, the fragile reality they'd built around each other cracking at the edges. The fear had wrapped around her chest like a vise, but she hadn't let it show. She'd just watched him, silent, her fingers tangling in his damp hair, trying to hold onto the moment as if she could stop time itself.

He'd asked her, "Where would we go if we ran away together, right now?"

They'd both known it was a fantasy, something impossible, but for a brief moment, she'd let herself believe in it. The idea of a life with him, somewhere far from East Highland, far from the twisted lives they'd led. Somewhere quiet, where they could be whoever they wanted, where no one could touch them. Where he wouldn't be haunted by his father, and she wouldn't be haunted by the person she was becoming.

They'd dreamed of a life they could never have, and now, she's left to face a reality she never wanted.

The grave in front of her is just dirt now, a pile of earth hiding the only person she's ever truly felt connected to. She sits there, hours after everyone else has left, her body rooted to the ground like she's become part of it. There's no one to tell her to get up, no one to pull her back into the world. She's alone here, with her memories, with the weight of what they shared.

She remembers the last time she saw him, the way he'd looked back at her as the police took him away, mouthing, "I love you." She'd felt it like a physical blow, a confession she wasn't prepared for, a promise she knew he couldn't keep. She hadn't said it back, too choked by fear and grief and the terrible, terrible certainty that she was losing him.

And now he's gone.

Her fingers dig into the soil, pressing down until the dirt fills the creases of her skin, grounding her in a way that nothing else can. She wants to scream, to rage at the unfairness of it all, but she doesn't have the energy. All she can do is sit here, empty, hollow, clinging to the memories of a boy who loved her in the only way he knew how—a way that was flawed, and dangerous, and all-consuming.

They'd had so many plans, so many whispered promises. She doesn't know what to do now, doesn't know how to live in a world where he isn't there, even if he'd been taken from her piece by piece, long before the final goodbye.

She presses a hand to her stomach, feeling the faintest stir of life. A child he'll never meet. A child she doesn't know how to raise, how to protect from the darkness that's already seeped into her veins. She's terrified, and she hates him for leaving her like this, hates herself for needing him even now.

Slowly, she lets herself fold over, curling into the dirt as if she can sink into the earth and join him. Her body shudders with silent sobs, her hand clenching the soil as though it's the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground. She stays like that, unmoving, the sky darkening above her, the world shifting around her, but she's frozen. She doesn't know how to get up, doesn't know how to walk away.

The only sound in the cemetery is the quiet hum of insects, the distant rustling of leaves, and the soft, broken breaths of a girl who has lost everything.